


And When I Dream, I Dream Of You

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [35]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:16:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: She'd opened the door and stepped into her bedroom, not even thinking about knocking.  After all, it was her own bedroom!  She stopped dead, "oh, sweet glory!  How beautiful they are together!"An impromptu romantic encounter brings back the memories Caeide had thought perhaps had been lost to Peter and Andrew.





	And When I Dream, I Dream Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Some brief, mild description of intimacy. Yes, I would stop posting the warnings if I had any idea just how open my readers are, but I AM trying to avoid catching anyone unaware.

The shower Peter and Andrew shared had been acting up, and while they had thought they had it fixed, well, when the business end came off in midstream and clonked him in his shampoo-frothed head, it was pretty obvious that they hadn't. It was a rush to get the water shut off before it caused damage; then, looking down at himself in disgust, Andrew thought, {"it could have waited til I'd gotten the soap rinsed off, you know!"}

Shaking his dripping head, rubbing what he was sure was going to turn into a bruise, he grabbed his robe, a towel, and headed over to see if he could use Caeide's. He didn't put the robe on, not wanting to get it all soapy, so he just wrapped the towel about his narrow waist and, deciding he didn't want to have Maude or Marisol see him jaunting about the hallway like that, he headed to Peter's room, giving just a fast knock, and at the faint 'come in', he entered but just crossed the empty bedroom, and headed through the open connecting door, through the office, giving a brief, 'just passing through; oh, and don't try using our shower!" and into Caeide's room. He knew he didn't need to knock there, since that connecting door was already standing open.

Peter, bending over the small desk, trying to find that paper he knew he'd seen just that morning, blast it!, stared after the half naked, wet and foamy apparition who'd just scootled through. He shook his head, "Andrew??? What the bloody 'ell ? Andrew??!" He didn't get an answer, so he followed, pulling open the shower door to repeat his question. Well, that was the start of it, and once Andrew was rinsed and sort of dry, and when Peter's now more than a little damp clothes had been removed and dropped on the floor, they never quite made it back to Peter's room or Andrew's, what with Caeide's big comfortable bed just sitting there, waiting, calling to them, needing only the quilt thrown to the end to make it their own.

Explaining, then laughing and teasing had led to kissing, which had progressed to caressing, to stroking, and it seemed inevitable. Though the night of Andrew's Dance had given them a taste of this, it had been in opposite roles to where this seemed to be headed this afternoon. Now, somehow in the laughing and the caressing, and kissing, they'd ended upright on their knees in the middle of that bed, Peter holding Andrew snugly in front of him in his arms. Peter's additional height meant that his dark head was slightly bent over the lighter brown one in front of him, Andrew's head arched back, resting over the top of Peter's shoulder. Their breath was coming in gasps, their eyes slightly unfocused, and the sounds of shared passion, the tiny moans, and whimpers, and groans, and gasps, filled the cool air. As their moment came closer, Peter dropped one hand lower, to touch, to stroke, to allow Andrew to stroke into his grasp; Andrew's arms reached backwards, his hands clutching at Peter's thighs, rocking continuously.

This was the scene when Caeide walked in, her face showing what she was thinking, {"oh sweet glory! How beautiful they are together!"} and she started to turn to leave, to avoid distracting them, when she heard it, one voice, then another following, "No, stay." "Please, stay!" and she turned back to them. Their eyes were still unfocused, but they'd seen her, and she could tell they meant it, they wanted, perhaps they needed her to stay, to see. So she stayed, she watched, and when their striving came to completion only seconds later, she shook her head and sat quickly in the nearby chair; indeed, her knees wouldn't have held her for much longer. When they had caught their breath, and she knew they were watching to see if she was angry with them, or offended by them using her room for this interlude, or maybe worse, she shook her head at them, lovingly, with a chuckle.

"I have to apologize," she grinned at them, "I know it's rude to be late to a performance, but I was unsure of the starting time and I got delayed." And she laughed, and they laughed with her, and once they'd made use of her shower again and Peter draped himself in a big towel, Andrew in his robe, they made themselves comfortable, Caeide, the only one in day clothes, propped up at the head of that big bed, Andrew sitting crosslegged at the end, Peter in the arm chair, much in charity with each other.

It was then the talk took the turn each had been considering for some time. Andrew took a good look at the quilt he was now sitting on. "This is really pretty; I haven't seen this since . . ." and his voice drifted off.

"Since when, Andrew? I've had it tucked away for quite some time; I'd snagged it, and hadn't taken time to mend it properly til a day or so ago. I haven't had it out since Peter came home; that's when I snagged it, removing it so quickly that night," she asked, puzzled. Then, her eyes widened, and she remembered.

She swallowed deeply, "before that, it was one of my favorites, and the one I used most often. The lavender curtains, braided rugs in the same colors, the other soft things that went with it - when I put it away, I cleaned and stored those too, til I could use them all together. I switched to the blue and white quilt and the things that went with it and used those til now, but this one . . . This one held so many memories, so many dreams!" and her voice was low, soft as she reached out to stroke the quilted and embroidered surface. She and they looked at the cream and lavender quilt, with touches of deep purple and sage green.

"I remember it too," Peter admitted in a whisper, "that first time, when you asked if I'd come to talk or for something else, this was on the bed. The time Andrew and I . . ." and he turned about three shades paler, remembering, looking at the younger man, who nodded, "that's when I remember it from, I remember thinking how," and he gave a wry grin, "how beautiful you looked stretched out on it," and he gave a little laugh, because the indignant, appalled look Peter gave him was just the sort he'd figured he'd get back then, when he considered telling him.

"And I remember 'ow you looked stretched out on it when you got bit by that blasted snake, so pale it made the cream of the quilt look dark by comparison."

"And the time we were in the cooler and I noticed it WASN'T on the bed . . ." 

They sat, thinking their thoughts and their eyes raised and met. "I never knew how much of that was wishful thinking, how much dreaming, but to see you," she smiled at Peter, then at Andrew, "to see both of you, to touch you, to be able to offer you . . . something, anything, to make your existence even a little bit better, that was important to me. After the snake, when Reverend Miles came, he said I'd done just as I ought to have done, but I didn't remember doing any of it; I remembered the two of you caring for me, but I knew he'd not believe me. I wasn't sure I believed me, but I wanted to believe."

She frowned then, remembering. "Andrew, did you fall? It wasn't here, but I dreamed of you falling and hurting yourself, and I was holding you and you were so cold, so very, very cold."

Peter and Andrew exchanged a long look, "it was winter, I fell into a ravine coming back from a mission, landed on a ledge pretty far down and I was hurt and couldn't crawl out, and a wolf came and looked down at me, then you were there, and you fed me and gave me water to drink, and covered me up with a big fur coat, and held me til help came." His voice was very low, hardly audible, and then a very sly smirk filled his face, and he wiggled his eyebrows, "and you weren't wearing any clothes! I really remember that! I remembered thinking, "WOW!" only to receive a slap on the head from Newkirk, who'd long ago joined them to sit on the side of the bed.

"Trust you to remember that bit!"

She laughed with them, then gave him a mock pout, "I'm a little hurt to think YOU'D not remember a thing like that, Peter," and he colored and they laughed again. 

"I remember you telling me to wake up, and you shook me by the shoulder til I did," now from Peter. "You pointed to a drawing on the floor, and said, " the wastelakapi, 'e's there, go find 'im and bring 'im 'ome, you and the ciye," and I woke up and made a mad dash into 'ogan's room, woke 'im from a dead sleep, scrambling through all those bloody maps, trying to find the one that matched what I'd seen. They thought I was mad, all of them, but they gave in and we found 'im."

Andrew's eyes were huge now, "that's what YOU told me, Caeide, that the ciye and the wastelakapi would be coming for me, I just had to hold on til they got there. What do they mean, those words," he asked, with a frown.

She smiled a bit ruefully at Andrew, then at Peter. "Ciye - that's the term for brother or brothers, wastelakapi - that means 'beloved'."

Peter reached out his arm, letting his index finger flick across Andrew's cheek, and he nodded, "sounds bout right,".

He and Andrew would talk later, remembering what those visits had meant to them, how what had happened here had let them be just that little bit more open with each other, give them just that little bit of hope that helped get them through those dark days. Later, out of curiosity, Andrew would look up the meaning of lavender in its variations, and he smiled when he showed what he had found to the other two: lavender, the color of spiritual energy, of imagination, of dreams, unconditional and selfless love.


End file.
